


Balm for a Broken Heart

by MsThunderFrost



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Burns, Crying, Established Relationship, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Injured Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Has a Past, Jealous Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jealousy, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Sad Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23523568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsThunderFrost/pseuds/MsThunderFrost
Summary: “You sound half in love with her.” Geralt said. He didn’t expect a response, and he didn’t receive one－at least, not verbally. Jaskier averted his eyes, sopping wet washcloth falling from between his fingers. “...You are, aren’t you?”“In love with her? Don’t be foolish, Geralt. I’m with you, aren’t I?” But that wasn’t necessarily an answer, now was it?A moment of tense silence followed, before Jaskier fished the washcloth from the tub and resumed his scrubbing. Geralt’s stomach twisted uncomfortably, “Why?”Jaskier blinked, “Why what?”He couldn’t quite swallow the snarl that bubbled up within him at Jaskier’s feigned ignorance, “Come now, Jaskier. You cannot possibly be that dense.” He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to be so cruel－Jaskier hadn’t done anything wrong. “Did she catch you with your pants ‘round your ankles in some noblewoman’s bed?”The bard flinched, recoiling as though he’d been physically struck. “...Actually, she cheated on me.”
Relationships: Female Mage Inquisitor/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 9
Kudos: 409





	Balm for a Broken Heart

**Author's Note:**

> So, this'll be a one-shot for now. I may add more chapters depending on how people like it. 
> 
> I was just... on the Witcher Kink Meme, and saw a prompt for a DAI-Witcher fusion fic, and I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if Jaskier had been engaged to a F!Mage Trevelyan Inquisitor. So here you are!!
> 
> ((We are, of course, taking some minor liberties with Dragon Age lore, and are going to ignore the annoyance that is the Circle of Magi for right now. Okay? Cool cool.))

When Jaskier had first mentioned his ex-fiancee in the off-handed way one might comment upon the weather, Geralt hadn’t paid him much mind. Though he was able to tune out much of Jaskier’s seemingly endless chatter, he was well-aware that Jaskier was of noble birth－marriages amongst nobility were often arranged before babes took their first toddling steps; realistically, it would be  _ more _ unusual to discover that Jaskier  _ didn’t _ have an intended. 

It hadn’t bothered him enough to bother with follow-up questions. After all, Jaskier had made it quite clear that she was an  _ ex _ －if he’d managed to evade her for near two decades, he didn’t think that they had to worry that she’d turn up at one of Jaskier’s various engagements, demanding his hand. It hadn’t bothered him… until Destiny decided to throw yet another wrench in his delightful trainwreck of a life, and a beautiful cyromancer stole his first contract in  _ weeks _ out from underneath him, leaving him with third-degree burns over ten percent of his body and without sufficient coin to be treated by a proper healer. 

When Jaskier had helped him into the bath later that night, more worried about the Witcher’s sorry state than the lack of coin in his purse, he’d told him what’d happened and Jaskier… The bard’s eyes had widened to the size of saucers, color rising high in his cheeks as he’d demanded Geralt tell him what the mage looked like. Geralt had frowned, wary of the starstruck expression on the bard’s face, but had eventually conceded to his request. He hadn’t been too terribly concerned with her appearance, seeing as she’d seemed intent on freezing everything in her path, but he told him what he could remember.

“That’s… Blodwyn.” Jaskier said breathily. He had a far-off look on his face, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a small smile, before he shook his head. “And all she did was burn you? Nothing more… serious?” 

Geralt grunted, “Hmm.” Slinking down further in the bath, he continued, “I will live.”

“This is… Geralt, I don’t think you understand.” Distress radiated off of Jaskier in waves as he continued, “Blodwyn is a knight-enchanter. Most mages are ranged attackers－they don’t like to thrust themselves into the thick of battle. Even fewer can wield a sword. But Blodwyn… she’ll cut you to ribbons before you even have time to blink.”

“You sound half in love with her.” Geralt said. He didn’t expect a response, and he didn’t receive one－at least, not verbally. Jaskier averted his eyes, sopping wet washcloth falling from between his fingers. “...You are, aren’t you?”

“In love with her? Don’t be foolish, Geralt. I’m with you, aren’t I?” But that wasn’t necessarily an answer, now was it?

A moment of tense silence followed, before Jaskier fished the washcloth from the tub and resumed his scrubbing. Geralt’s stomach twisted uncomfortably, “Why?”

Jaskier blinked, “Why what?”

He couldn’t quite swallow the snarl that bubbled up within him at Jaskier’s feigned ignorance, “Come now, Jaskier. You cannot possibly be  _ that _ dense.” He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to be so  _ cruel _ －Jaskier hadn’t done anything wrong. “Did she catch you with your pants ‘round your ankles in some noblewoman’s bed?”

The bard flinched, recoiling as though he’d been physically struck. “...Actually, she cheated on me.”

He dropped the washcloth again, scrubbing at his eyes until the tender skin was swollen and  _ red _ . “Jas…”

“She, ah…” he laughed brokenly. “She was my first love. And she really… really fucked me up. I never… I never officially broke off the engagement, but I couldn’t... “ Jaskier sniffled wetly, crystalline tears pooling on his lashes. “I ran away, okay? I couldn’t even confront her after…”

The Witcher moved slowly, careful to avoid the wounds on the backs of his arms. He curled dripping wet fingers around Jaskier’s wrist, dragging the smaller man back toward the bath. He hadn’t meant to dredge up such painful memories. It was clear as day that the bard still loved this woman－ _ Blodwyn _ , his torturous brain so helpfully supplied; her name is Blodwyn and she is earth-shatteringly beautiful and Jaskier  _ loves _ her… to be able to speak of her so softly, so  _ reverently _ , after breaking him so completely… his mind is spinning and his chest  _ aches _ and he’s suddenly desperate to do whatever he can to keep her name from gracing Jaskier’s beautiful lips. Was this how Jaskier felt, when he saw him with Yennefer?

He supposed that there was a certain irony in discovering his beloved’s ex-fiancee was a sorceress. And a powerful one, to boot. He didn’t have much experience with cryomancers or… what had he called her? A knight-enchanter? He’d seen a few mages capable of wielding a bow and arrow, and others that could handle a dagger in close-range, one on one combat. But most preferred to stick to the sidelines and attack with massive area of effect spells, like the one that had burned him. The point was that she was dangerous－and considering her history with his bard, even more so. He found himself hoping that their paths wouldn’t cross again－the Continent was vast; the odds of a repeat encounter exceedingly small.

Jaskier was silent for a long moment, reveling in the feel of Geralt’s calloused fingers massaging his wrists. “You know… this is probably an awful idea, but… she’s the commander of the largest army to not be united under any single banner. She might be able to help protect Ciri－,”

Geralt raised a brow, grip tightening marginally as another bright stab of jealousy tore through him. “Didn’t you just get done telling me all about how dangerous this woman is? How she  _ betrayed _ you?” Jaskier was making a point of looking anywhere but the White Wolf’s face. “What makes you think she’d help?”

“She wouldn’t help me.” Jaskier said with a rueful little smile, “But an innocent young girl? The worst she’ll do is say no, and then we’ll just have to continue our search for Yennefer.” 

Geralt studied him for a moment, “You still love her.” It wasn’t a question this time.

“I love  _ you _ .” Jaskier said, once again avoiding the question. Geralt felt as though he were swallowing glass.

When it became clear that Jaskier did not intend to say anything more on the matter, he sighed, “Why is it that, prior to meeting you, I can count on one hand the number of mages I’ve said more than five words to－then you stumble into my life and we’re almost getting killed by one every third day.” 

“To be fair,” Jaskier’s voice was weak as he said, “you found Blodwyn all on your own. And if she’d wanted to kill you, you’d be dead.” He forced a small smile, “It sounds as though she was more interested in the wyvern you were hunting.” 

“Hmm,” Why did he feel like the consequences of agreeing to meet with this mage were so much more severe than Jaskier was letting on? 

Finally, he dragged Jaskier in for a slow, sensual kiss. The bard tumbled into his arms willingly, shuddering when his chest was soaked in sudsy, lukewarm bathwater. If Jaskier had felt this out of sorts when he bedded Yennefer, then there would never be enough apologies in the world to make up for the harm that he’d caused. It was bad enough that he’d cheated, even if it had never been his intent－he knew now that everything he’d felt for Yennefer had been a byproduct of the djinn’s magic, but knowing that Jaskier’s first love had broken his heart in a similar fashion… He knew that he did not have the right to feel jealous over a woman who’d long since given up any claim she may have had to Jaskier once upon a time, but…

He knew that he was being selfish, but he’d been content in his little utopia, where Jaskier had been engaged, trapped in a loveless relationship of convenience. Where, even if he hadn’t been thrilled at the prospect of the bard trailing along behind him on the Path, he could claim that he was doing him a favor, saving him from a life on monotony with a wife, an heir, and his spare, a couple of dogs with a pedigree to rival the queen, and more money than he could ever hope to spend. He wanted to believe that, while Jaskier loved the  _ idea _ of love, he’d never really felt it until he went tumbling, head over heels for his Witcher. He wanted Jaskier to be his in every sense of the word; he didn’t want to share space inside of the bard’s heart with a mage that clearly didn’t recognize his worth.

Jaskier had caught her cheating and had run  _ all the godsdamned way to Posada _ , never once looking back. And he likely would’ve been content to never bring her up in any sort of meaningful capacity again… until she hurt Geralt. He could smell the anger… the confusion… the  _ hurt _ that was rolling off of the bard in waves. He wanted to tell him that this  _ Blodwyn _ would never hurt him again, that she’d have to claw her way through Geralt’s dead body first…

But Jaskier, the dumb bastard… just seemed to want to let himself be hurt. 

Geralt resisted the urge to fully submerge himself in the tub, “...We’re not speaking with her until this burn heals. That’ll be three days, at least. I’m assuming you know where she’d be headed.”

Jaskier nodded, running his tongue along kiss-swollen lips, “She has a stronghold in the Frostback Mountains. If she’s not headed there now, she will be soon.” He said. “I was there one winter… They asked me to play at a celebratory feast, after they’d slain some sort of demonspawn－,”

“Demons don’t exist.” Geralt said immediately, like a reflex.

Jaskier smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Right.” He sighed, “Anyway, I could lead us there. The journey should only take about a week.” He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “...You do know that I love you, right, Geralt? This is… I’m doing this to help Ciri, not because I－,”

“Hmm,” if only the ache in his chest would let him believe that.


End file.
